These are a few of my favorite FIGs (sung to the tune of Sound of Music favorite things song)

I know it's March, but since I wasn't great at posting some of the things I was grateful for in February . . .  here's my in-no-specific-order list:  

* a great weather warmup - getting to run outside 3x last week (we'll pretend it didn't snow a bit this afternoon)

*  being able to wear contact lenses again 

* Kay and Rae had a playoff b-ball game last week and Nana, Coach, Reg (rarely in town during the week), Curly (her season was over so no practice), and I were all able to attend. They won. 

* while at that game, I managed to speak with 3 staff members/teachers about 3 issues we wanted to address/pick their brains about re:  the girls. 

* Lad has made some good contact with people via networking with my BIL's best friend. Hoping this leads to a new job

the box under the other box: 
 full of more textbooks.
What even?

* decluttering task:  good riddance boxes of extra textbooks that I've been scrounging up from ALL CORNERS OF OUR HOUSE. 

* Curly reaching her goal of 1,000 points. This happened in the last game of the season on the Friday night when Coach was sick, so he missed it. 

* I love love love some of the new parents I sit for this year. And one of them has a sister who is due with a baby in May and probably will want to bring her baby here in the fall. 

*  We are having a difficult time connecting and bonding with Kay. A few weeks ago, I thought:  I should hold her on my lap (she's 12 BTW) and ask her how she's doing. Well, then I HAD to do that. I couldn't NOT do it, ya know? So, I did, joking that I wanted to see how much weight my office chair could hold. I'll expand more in a non-bullet point post. 'Twas a step in the right direction. 

*  Breakfast out with one of my besties to celebrate my birthday, a little late but that's when it worked, and it was delightful. Lingering birthday celebrations:  not a bag thing

*  Ed came home the last Sunday of February, because he finally finished two audits and he didn't have to work cray-cray hours. We ate dinner as a family and played a game. So much fun. 

*  A lengthy phone call, getting caught up with one of my other besties. 

*  A coach called Reg after he had a great game:  I'm the coach of the team you just destroyed, wanna come play for me? (Reg doesn't want to play D3 for him, but it was still a boost).

Turns out referees are more tolerable
after a margarita. Why didn't
I think of this YEARS ago? 

*  Coach and I went for dinner Friday night for Mexican (this was my roll of the dice, uncertain if I'd get sick AND I DIDN'T) on our way to watch Reg's last b-ball game of his season. The girls have therapy on Fridays. They get a ride supplied by DCFS from school to therapy and then home. Built in respite is a godsend for us. 

******

Saturday Coach, myself, and the 4 youngest drive to Creighton to watch b-ball/socialize. There will be stories. Plus, another stitches ordeal. Any guesses? It's a doozie. Stay tuned. 

Is anyone preparing 'bitch fest' posts to offset the pent up frustrations of life while we were all focused on joy? Kidding. Sort of. **I'm looking at you, girls high school basketball situation.**

Avoiding going down with the ship & other grateful (FIG) moments

I'm pausing my daycare update to share the latest happenings in Shenanigan Central Vomit Ville.

Coach started puking Thursday the 21st in the middle of the night. I woke up unaware that he'd been sick. He'd still gone to work, texting me to say he'd be home soon as he'd been up all night puking. 

I was angry, because:

1. before school the girls had used the first floor bathroom where he'd puked and it hadn't been properly cleaned.

2. I text-SHOUTED that he shouldn't have gone to work. He said he 'had to'. Maybe he had the key? Don't know/don't care - that's irresponsible. Duh. 

I try to steer clear of cleaning house, doing laundry, and cooking on my day off . . . but I tackled the bathroom/made an exception. 

This bug knocked him out:  weak, sleepy, and no appetite all weekend.

Ed Grimley from Tenor

On Wednesday, an 8 month old drank a bottle right after I'd put the rest of the crowd down for naps ('crowd':  soon explained, get excited for the upcoming daycare post?). Right in my lap she morphed into a fountain of regurgitated milk. It just kept coming. 

Not sure how, but I stood up, cradling her, maintaining a C curve (do you remember the SNL skit with Martin Short as Ed Grimley - that's the posture) as I took a few steps to the kitchen. I set her down,  releasing the river of milk that I'd been cupping with my body by squeezing my elbows tight to my sides and practicing the terrible posture that my mom scolded me for EVERY DAY OF MY FORMATIVE YEARS (bitter? me?).

Maybe this is too gross to post,
but it's basically spilled milk.
MG Google:  note the socks!

SPLAT! Only one drop landed on the family room carpet.

I opened all the windows, bathed the baby, washed half of the kitchen floor and warned the parents at pickup to be on guard. Then around 7:30 pm, Kay puked. She didn't make it to the bathroom, and Coach cleaned up the carpet in the girls' room. 

I alerted my people that Kay was throwing up. One mom is due to have a baby this week (see:  daycare  'crowd'), and she and another mom kept their kids home the next day as a precaution. For a minute the next morning, I thought HEY NO MORNING NAPPERS, WE CAN GO TO THE ZOO OR SOMETHING. Then I remembered that I had a sick 12 year old hanging in her room.

Thursday night, I was on my way home from book club. Curly called me:  SO, I JUST THREW UP. Dang nab it! She had Friday off of school.

For weeks, I toyed with the idea of she and I flying to Florida that 3-day weekend because we could use some sunshine. But the end of the b-ball season was unknown. Hers ended sooner than it should've. (Hmm, will I write a post about the frustrations with this season and the lousy coach? Do people want to hear me vent?) Last minute flights were crazy pricey. Me:  Well - good thing we aren't flying somewhere in the morning. 

Will I stay vomit-free? If I avoid this, that'll count as a major February FIG. (Elisabeth has urged blog friends to count their FIGs:  find joy in gratitude). 

***I drafted this on Friday, editing to add:  Coach and I drove to Indiana to watch Reg's last basketball game. On the way we stopped for dinner. I voted for Mexican. Talk about a roll of the dice . . . and? I didn't catch the bug. Hooray!

I admit that while I didn't record all of my gratitude moments in Feb, I was more aware of them and what a great habit that is to get into. 

My favorite FIG (I'll share a few in my next post. Who knew puke-talk could lead to such a high word count?):

* Mini called Thursday - the night before her spring break flight. We talked thru issues:  boarding pass that wouldn't download and then it did, and Me:  it's FINE if they charge you for a checked bag . She was bringing a small backpack as a carryon for the week -stuffing it to the gills. My heart stopped when she called me at 2 am her time (she wasn't sleeping). I fumbled around for my notes from the session I had with her anxiety therapist. I told her it's time to sleep, a thought is just a thought and everything (missing a flight, etc) is solvable, we hung up and I was SO EXCITED in the am to get a text saying she'd gone right to sleep after our talk. Sleeping 4.5 hours (she's literally been awake the entire night a few times before travelling because anxiety is a bitch). Hooray for sleeping!

*****

Have you had most family members gone down with a stomach bug, but one who stood strong and avoided it? (asking for a friend) Are you a fan of SNL? If so do you have a favorite skit?

A career tangent before the daycare update

When I started writing my daycare update, I launched into a tangent and I've decided to roll with it. Part 1 (How is part 2 necessary? Turns out I have things to say). 

Also, I read this post titled Advice for a Friend Who Wants to Start a Blog that Melissa linked in a recent post, and it resonated with me. Henrik, the author of the post, writes, "What's odd about you is what's interesting." So, maybe this is part of the odd about me. 

Career background:  I have a business (marketing) degree. Why? I wanted to be a teacher, but the woman I babysat for since I was 12, who was influential in my world, advised me before HS graduation that I'd never meet a husband if I was a teacher. (WHAT?) I switched to business, but it wasn't that simple . . .  

This blows Mini's mind:  In 1989 when I finished HS, I wanted to be a physical therapist. I got a huge course selection book from SMC (my college) in the mail.

Me (paging thru it):  Where are the PT classes?

I didn't have my future figured out
in high school. But, here I am as the
self appointed mascot. I made the pirate
 costume/bought the mask at the grocery
store during Halloween. Who even was I?
 Well, I was voted most spirited. So,
 I got that going for me, which is nice.

My folks:  I don't think SMC has PT. 

My college didn't offer my desired major. 

So, I started as a biology major taking business classes. Additional schooling was required to go the PT route. No thanks. I didn't hate biology, but I opted for business. My dad always said:  You could sell ice to Eskimos. Beyond that line, there wasn't a lot of career direction from them. I was clueless. Looking back, I wish I'd done accounting:  a specific skill set and part time or full time jobs, etc. 

Reflecting back:  Let me preface this:  my parents did the best they could, and, um - they were old school. 

A huge factor:  my folks didn't consider me brilliant. Pat and Marie, the two siblings I landed between were brilliant. Smarts mattered in my family of origin, and that message was loud and clear. I'm smart and was an A/B student in high school. The focus on intelligence and the fixation on the kids who my parents deemed brilliant . . . well, not gonna lie. It hurt. I grew up never feeling I measured up. 

There wasn't talk about future goals or careers or what I'd do after school. Do I wish that I'd been self motivated and confident in choosing a major? You bet. I was raised to think my role was to raise a family, and honestly, that suited me. 

Wait, my dad did have a suggestion:  nursing. 

Hello, I pass out at the sight of blood, needles, discussion of blood, gashes on heads that led to bleeding under hair - NO CAN DO. 

Other input: Marie went to ND, and my folks were involved in what she studied. She double majored in electrical engineering and economics, graduating in 5 years. They were also very engaged with my brothers' majors. Obviously, they were boys, it mattered. (grumble, grumble)

Ann wanted to be an artist. She IS an artist, incredibly talented. She took classes at the Art Institute of Chicago, and I think was accepted there. (that's fuzzy for me, as I was in 7th grade). My dad said he wouldn't pay for her to go to college to draw pictures. She's a nurse, and that's a great fit for her. 

My dad wrote a weekly letter and sent it to one of us at college. All 5 of us studied in South Bend, overlapping one another at times. Whoever got the letter was expected to share with the other sibs. We each had our own 'section'. This was before email. How frugal was my dad, not springing for additional stamps to send extra letters? My section always ended:  I'd really like another nurse. I responded:  

Maybe you should adopt, because newsflash:  I cannot do nursing. Duh.

*****

Do you write about the 'odd' aspects of you? How did you stumble upon your career, or are you still searching? Did you have choices about college, or a choice about going an alternate route? Were you self motivated to be (insert your job)?

Donna's timestamp giving a fuzzy memory a little clarity

At the high school fundraiser on 2/14, we bumped into one of my old friends, who I haven't kept in touch with. I was delighted to see her. Donna was one of the shortest girls in our class, and more importantly one of the sweetest. She asked Coach to turnabout our senior year 1989, when he was a junior. I attended turnabout with my good friend, who I still keep in touch with, Andy. I remember seeing super tall Coach joke around with his very short date, Donna, when a slow dance came on. He pretended he was gonna get on his knees to dance with her. 

Coach and Donna -
turnabout recreation

Anyway, we chatted about that turnabout and Donna remembered that Coach had gotten in BIG trouble the weekend before the dance. He was allowed to attend the dance - but could make no dinner plans beforehand, and had to come home right afterwards. 

Me:  Oh, really? Do tell, Donna. 

The trouble he'd landed in was major and once she shared it, I was like 'Ah, I remember that.' I'd been unsure of the timeline, so her info put a timestamp on the 'incident'. 

A few weeks before turnabout, Coach's folks told their kids they'd be moving to upper state New York that summer. Coach was distraught. He'd have to start a new school as a senior, unable to graduate with his class. A junior hosted a party that night as her folks were out of town. Coach went to the party and dealt with this moving out of state news by becoming overserved. Um, understatement. 

Two well-meaning friends decided they'd call his folks and pose as a mom saying: "Coach has decided to sleep over here tonight." Well, in a true sitcom-esque moment, neither friend knew that the other was doing the same thing. So, Coach's folks got two separate calls. And believe me, I'm sure their radar was up once they got the first call . . .  from someone other than their son. Hmm. His dad figured out whose parents were out of town. 

The story from the other attendees:  Cops showed up at the house. Everyone kept quiet and hidden while the kid who lived there opened the door and spoke with the authorities. Then someone announced, "MR. SHENANIGAN'S HERE!" (aka my FIL, a force not to be reckoned with). And kids started climbing out windows and shoving each other in order to get out of dodge. The kids could NOT escape fast enough. Chaos ensued. 

Coach remembers waking up in his bed the next morning wearing a hospital band on his wrist and feeling . . . un really horrible. Turns out his dad took him to the ER where he'd gotten his stomach pumped. 

I can't believe he was allowed to even go to the dance the next weekend. 

Flip-side:  I went to a party the end of my junior year (this was not my scene - it was something a friend who lived in a nearby city invited me to and there weren't many people from my school there). I didn't drink, and I told my mom I was going to a party. Came home on time, not having had a sip of alcohol. 

I was grounded for six weeks, because she grilled me with things like:  Were the parents at the party? 

My answer was honest:  Um, I didn't see them. 

And dishonest/creative:  We were in the basement - I think they were upstairs. (there was no chance the parents were home). 

We wore uniform blazers to school, glitzing up the blazers with various buttons. I took one of those customizable name tags from student council elections (the ones with a clear plastic sleeve and an inserted paper) and wrote on it:  EAT, DRINK, AND BE MERRY . . . FOR TOMORROW YOU TOO MAY BE GROUNDED. From then on, I followed the 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' approach. In other words, my mom drove me to drink. Um, I might have had one Bartels and James coolers - not exactly drinking till I needed my stomach pumped. 

Not one of my siblings was ever grounded for even a weekend, let alone six weeks. I didn't really go out much. I was busy babysitting and working at Burger King. I survived the six week sentence by babysitting for my friend, who now lives in Dallas. Her husband played for the Bears. They were awesome, and helped me maintain my sanity while living with strict parents. She had me invite friends over when I was babysitting while grounded. She'd pick up a few Blockbuster videos and order us pizza. If it weren't for her, I would've lost my everlasting mind. 

*****

Ever receive an unfair grounding? Did you attend the kind of parties in high school that were thrown when parents weren't home? Were you like me - did you babysit a ton in high school, or do some other job? 

Valentine's Day: a blast from the past event, red jacket worthy

Coach and I headed up to the northern suburbs late afternoon on Valentine's Day. I visited my favorite high school teacher for the 2nd week in a row. Not sure I've seen her since high school - making up for lost time. I brought my yearbook this time  and we looked through it, reminiscing about the good old days. She asked about a few specific people, and I'm gonna reach out and urge those classmates to get in touch with her. 

While I was hanging with Mrs. K, Coach visited his parents, who usually winter in South Carolina but skipped it this year because his dad had his hip replaced. 

We met up at his folks' house where I feasted on chili in the thermos I packed. I'm a cheap date. Also, the food at the fundraiser we were heading to - chock full of gluten. 

Next up:  our former stomping grounds - our high school. I moved into my house (after living minutes from our current home in the western Chicago burbs) the DAY BEFORE freshman year started, knowing no one. My brother Pat, an 8th grader, became good friends with his classmate . . .  Coach. 

Coach's family lived down the street from our new house. His folks befriended my parents. I'd say the rest is history, but there's more to the story. Layers, people. LAYERS.  

We live about an hour south of our high school, so we aren't in the hood often. It was wild to be back in the building. Aside from the new gym tacked onto the side, so much was the same. Coach got turned around after walking through the new gym into the OG gym and then into the school. It made me chuckle. 

Coach:  Wait, isn't that where we ate lunch? (pointing out the window from the lounge)

Me:  What? That's the courtyard. Behind you - that's the cafeteria. Have you hit your head recently? 

This room, adjacent to the women's restroom, looks EXACTLY the same including these two mirrors, minus the big hair and the fog created by an abundance of Aqua net Hairspray. It was the late 80s. The all girls' school was on one half of the building and all boys' school on the other side. We shared a cafeteria/lounge, so girls hit this restroom on their way to lunch. It was still early in the night, so there was no one in there and it didn't seem creepy to snap a quick photo. The schools combined after I graduated. I loved attending single gender high school. The best. 

I saw a few people I graduated with, including one friend whose name is the same as my real name. A teacher once called on her, but I answered because same name and she was sitting diagonally behind me - the teacher said, "Is your name Ernie?" to which I answered in my best wiseass voice, seeing as what had happened, "Why yes, yes it is." The teacher died laughing. Ever since then, my friend and I have called one another Ernie-self, or Self for short. 

Self brought her elderly mom (she's 90!), who used to teach in the school. About half of her 7 siblings were there too. Her sister was in charge of running the Irish Pub (every classroom is turned into a bar or a comedy club, etc.), so we made a beeline for the Irish Pub room. Not surprising, that was the hot spot.

I wore my new red jacket
with dark jeans -
 I took this on the Irish
 dancing stage in the basement
 while debating what shoes
 to wear. Sent my photos to Mini
 in Italy for her thoughts. 

Coach, whose social battery runs a low after treating patients all week, needed a little push to be told to go. He'd dragged his feet, unsure if he wanted to go even when I pointed out that his brother and his wife, who we enjoy, were going. BIL and SIL live nearby and have 2 kids at the school. BIL/SIL have an amazing tight-knit group of friends and Coach feared we'd weigh them down. 

We chatted with a few of BIL's friends and the one woman was lovely, making me wish not for the first time that we lived there and sent our kids to that school. She and I clicked. She wanted to know our dating backstory, etc. By the end of the night, she turned to Coach, "OK, I'm coming for Christmas. I'm like family now." 

We packed a lot into that Friday, let me tell you. Coach says he was glad he went. I was glad he drove home, because it snowed A LOT of those big, heavy flakes while we were reliving the glory days. 

I was reminded of a few high school stories that night  . . . I'll share those next time.

*****

 Do you have fond high school memories? A nickname for you or someone else that stuck? Keep in touch with anyone from that time? Anyone else consider themselves a cheap date? 

Grateful grocery moments (overshadowed by an EF)

I rarely blog on Fridays, since it's my day off. My goal is to strictly focus on my writing (chapters of my book). Lots of you post on Fridays, and I wanted to 'splain why I'm usually late to the party. I enjoyed getting caught up on Saturday morning - all that 'figging' reminds me to seek out grateful moments in my day. I read blogs while . . . get this . . . 

Coach did the grocery shopping with Reg.

The week prior I was trying to do all the things. I hadn't tackled the grocery store, and was bummed that I'd miss the Creighton game. Reg offered to go. Then he backpedaled, admitting he didn't really want to. He ended up coming with me. We split the list, were home in record time, and watched Creighton beat Marquette. 

I'd been really inconsistent with groceries. Over break, I had a kid stop and grab 5-10 things as needed. It felt like we never managed to get EVEYTHING. I was annoyed. Then 'kids-who-shop' went back to school/apartments and I was faced with dreaded grocery duty. I didn't have a set day and couldn't get into a rhythm. Am I alone here?

Before Reg and I shopped, I created a google doc of most items we potentially buy. That grocery list helps jog my memory. Reg asked me, Why didn't you ever do this before?  

It's a valid question, and I have no answer. 

When I realized we only needed a handful of items, I took Reg up on his offer again this week. He and Coach took my google doc to the store after their workout. Boom! Done!

Coach planned to drive with Reg to his game in Indiana Sat night. While he was doing the groceries, I decided I could repay him by . . . (drumroll) . . .  taking the girls sledding. 

Sledding is 100% Coach's territory. He planned to take them after his workout, after groceries, before leaving for Reg's game. I told the girls to bundle up, and we headed out. 

I lowered myself onto a sled and went down the hill. Multiple times. Who even am I? After taking them to the gym, going to mass and eating dinner, I invited Curly, Rae, and Kay to have some girl night fun. We did a Let's Dance (or whatever) game on the Wii. Lots of laughs, and um, lots of interesting moves. 

Then the little girls and I watched the first episode of the 6th (?) season of BBS (I think the first season we watched was 5-  1st available on Netflix - Sophie won, if that jogs your memory).  This show has been so fun. The perfect length of time. Family friendly. 

 Grateful summary:  google doc grocery list, help with groceries, making memories sledding/dance party with the girls (esp that Curly participated), my lunch out on Sunday with Becky (my daycare extraordinaire partner in crime) as an after-the-fact b-day treat for me, a long chat with my bestie, Delilah on Friday, and a night out with Coach on Friday (more on that later). 

Do other people use a preprinted list before making a grocery trip each week? When was the last time you went sledding?  Also, I think we will be reworking our Italy trip in order to fit in Pompeii. Any accommodation or restaurant recommendations? 

******

In F-word news (not Fig, mind you):  Reg didn't get the Evans Scholarship. Our older kids who got rejected found out before Christmas. My hopes were UP. He must've made it to the final cuts?  His b-ball program guy hasn't  contacted coaches on Reg's behalf. After everything he's been thru, I don't want Reg to be disappointed that he isn't playing basketball in college (he could play D3, but he prefers to go to a school he likes vs play D3). If he'd gotten the Evans, the b-ball deal would fade into the background. It's fine. Everything happens for a reason. I've asked him to take ANOTHER gap year, so he can just go wherever Curly decides to play basketball. He's not on board with that idea. 

conundrum Monday on a Thursday: put your money where the hard work is

"Bonus, please." Lad worked so hard to sell 200 news cars (he also sold umpteen used cars) in 2024 in order to earn a big year-end bonus. The last few days of the year were brutal. He skipped the Shenanigan side Christmas on Sat, Dec. 28th, in order to meet his goal (plus it was far away and he had to go home and care for dogs after working all day on a Saturday, etc). 

He did it! He was so pumped. He's consistently the top sales guy each month. 

He called me a few weeks ago, ultra frustrated. One customer gave him an 8/10 rating. He strives for 10/10, because the boss people pay attention to that. He's usually 10/10. The boss guy (who I've known since he was born - took his siblings to see him in the hospital, like an hour after he was born. We literally go WAY back . . . also, how old AM I?) told Lad that he wouldn't be getting his $8,000 bonus, because he needed to have all 10/10s. 

The 8/10 happened because the couple waited forever for the finance manager to do his thing. Not something Lad could control. He ran next door and bought the couple lunch, because he knew they were frustrated. He has been told that he can still get his bonus, if he gets 10/10s on his next ten new car sales this month (In January) *And, 8/10 is far from like a 2/10? Right? ** He sells more used cars than new, so that number is tough to reach inside a month. 

Speaking of used cars:  We've owned GW,
 aka Great White, since spring of '09. Look
 how nicely my wagon and old buggy fit in
 the back. This year my gang is so young,
 I sometimes need to skip these and
 shove a quadruple stroller in there. It's
 awkward and floppy, and I so prefer to
 push and pull this duo. This
 reminds me, I need to
draft a daycare update. 

C'mon! 

Coach's perspective:  If I tell my PTs that they need to hit a certain volume to get a bonus, I'm not gonna cancel their bonus if they meet that goal but a couple of patients give them a less than perfect rating. (meaning, overall he can tell they're doing a good job, not having every patient complain about them, etc. Plus, some people are just never happy no matter what).

You know what's crystal clear? Lad needs to make a career change. He's more than ready. One issue is that he makes a lot of money selling cars and he bought a house (ugh, more of a pit than a house, perhaps), so taking a salary cut isn't ideal. 

I know that Lad has his moments, but I believe that they moved the goal line here and I think that stinks. 

*updating to add:  Lad DID sell the cars he needed to sell in January, and he did get all 10/10 reviews . . . here's hoping they actually give him the bonus this time. Keep you posted. 

*****

Have you ever had an employer move the goal line/screw with your bonus? Ever had to wait FOREVER when buying a car? Do you bother with those surveys?